


Seven Minutes In Heaven

by ruff_ethereal



Category: Descendants (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Basically A Very Dark Sin Fest That Doesn't Go To Full Blown Intercourse, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, French Kissing, Love/Hate, Making Out, Non-Consensual Kissing, POV First Person, Rough Kissing, Sexual Assault, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7608370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruff_ethereal/pseuds/ruff_ethereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal finds herself blackmailed into a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven, where she ends up trapped in a closet with her self-proclaimed archnemesis, Evie. There, she finds herself in a brand new kind of hell that isn't all torture and suffering...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Minutes In Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> The author does not condone Sexual Assault in Real Life, but they will admit they are Really Into This given certain contexts and situations with fictional characters, like this fanfic.
> 
> This story takes place in an alternate universe where Auradon Prep is a boarding school, with two gender-segregated halves. The campus itself is a mixture of Beast's Castle and invented architecture as deemed convenient. The timeline is somewhere in the 1980's, before the proliferation of smartphones.

I hated Evie, hated her family, hated her friends, hated her legions of admirers, and hated everything she stood for ever since I first met her.

She was exactly like Audrey, the girl I he used to despise with all my heart, only better in every way, which made my loathing all that much worse.

Beautiful, smart, and witty, without the insufferable know-it-all, holier, more talented, and more competent than thou attitude. Rich, always at the cutting edge of fashion and the trends, with all the latest and greatest in clothes, beauty products, and music yet not as anal about picking and choosing who could borrow her things. Incredibly active in charity work and student organizations, but unlike Audrey who was usually in it to help advance her dream of becoming a well-loved politician like her mother, she actually seemed to honestly care about the causes and the people she was helping—the PR was just a bonus.

Couple that with the fact that she was a transferee from overseas no one knew anything about; had an exotic and inherently sexy Spanish accent; and when she said that she went both ways and any other direction you could think of, she damn well _meant_ it, Audrey was all but left in the dust just a semester and a half after her arrival, overtaken and overshadowed by a girl that didn't even need to try to be more fabulous, trendy, and beloved than her.

That she seemed to either completely ignore all of my subtle and unsubtle digs, cold shoulders, and harsh looks, or just kept on giving me those polite smiles and harmless comebacks just to piss me off even more was just the runny, sour icing on the half-baked cake that was both not strawberry like I wanted AND had my name misspelled.

_No one_ could be that nice, that good, that perfect.

It was just _impossible,_ for someone to be such an angel without some sort of ulterior motive, or as a cover for whatever they were doing behind the scenes, where no one was looking, and those that did kept their mouths shut.

If I was actually an evil witch or a wicked enchantress like so many called me to skirt around the “No cursing” rule, I would have cast a hex on her a long, long, _long_ time ago.

“Maybe make all of that hair of hers fall out, let her think that's what years of salon treatments and all her uber-expensive shit will actually do...” I rambled as I lay sprawled out on Jane's bed. “Or make a huge, ugly zit appear on her face and it never, _ever_ goes away no matter how much she tries, so she does all sorts of weird things to cover it up before the charade falls apart and everyone and their mother knows she has the grossest pimple in the history of mankind. Or just give her chronic halitosis, so whenever she says anything, people will have to smile and nod while they cover their mouths and try not to tear up just to be polite!”

From her place on the standard issue “All Girls School” tea table, Jane frowned. “Doesn't all of that seem… I don't know, excessive? Maybe she's… you know... really not as bad as you think.” She paused, before she suddenly had an intense interest in her tea and dainty snacks, never looking up from them.

“I've met her,” Lonnie said in-between curl ups on the floor. “She's really not as bad as you make her out to be. I think you'll even like her, if you gave her a chance.”

I shuddered and sat up. “Lonnie, I will _literally_ pay you to never say that ever again, just name your price,” I said as I pulled out my wallet.

Lonnie finished her set, sat up, and said, “My price is one: what did she do to get you storming in here and ranting your heart away _this_ time? And two: why us out of your circle of friends, again?” she asked as she mopped the sweat off her skin. “I know it's not that big, but me and Jane are like, in the ring just outside the bullseye.”

“One: she's most _definitely_ going to the Rose Room Riot on Friday, and I _know_ she's going to ruin it for me just by being there; and two: you two are _also_ the only other girls in said circle, and you understand that when I bust into your room and rant away, I'm not looking for advice, rationalization of my feelings or logical theories about why I feel that why, or _dumb_ questions like if Evie's dating someone right now and if so, is she looking for a guy this time.”

Lonnie nodded before she took a swig of her water bottle.

“Can't you just tell them not to do that…?” Jane said, before she shut up like she'd just triggered an avalanche.

I rolled my eyes. “They're boys—they are _genetically_ incapable of understanding the fact that sometimes, when I tell you about my problems, I don't want a solution,” I said as I scooted off Jane's bed and headed out of their room.

I still had a lot of steam to let out about Evie, and other issues that pissed me off beside, but I knew even they could take only so far, and I didn't want to hit their limit. They were one of the few people in the entire planet still willing to talk to me, and I liked that number where it was, thank you.

* * *

The first incident that had sent me storming into Jane and Lonnie's room to rant and rave was about Evie was when the two of us were paired up together for a chemistry project.

In the interest of fairness, the professor drew lots. Everyone thought that I was the luckiest girl in class to have been paired up with Evie, the most popular girl in school who _also_ happened to be a chemistry whiz. They also thought that Evie was the unluckiest girl, and wondered why the hell she could have done in a past life to get me as her partner.

I was not a student known for my good grades or my excellent study habits. The exact _opposite_ , really. I made just the bare minimum for passing grade, with a few increments up the letter ladder if I was planning some particularly evil “extra-curricular activities” that semester and needed the leeway.

My professors lamented that I wasn't applying my “vast intellect to something productive,” but I was here in Auradon Prep against my will, my mother's way of granting me my wish of never having to live with her ever again while simultaneously twisting it and turning it into its own special kind of hell. I was _never_ going to give her the satisfaction that the boarding school system had forced me to sit down, study quietly, and try to stay out of trouble.

And yet in spite of being objectively the _worst_ partner _ever_ , Evie _still_ made an effort.

She brought snacks, and was polite and friendly. She made a pretty damn workable plan to distribute the work between us, have all the heavy, boring chemistry and research stuff on her end and the reporting fluff on my end, and _boy_ could I write like I knew what I was actually talking about. And even as I constantly refused to help or sabotage her progress, leaving her to do pretty much all of it, she never failed to let me know about the things she could help out with.

I would have felt sorry for her and her dogged optimism if I didn't hate her so much.

The professor was obviously and rightfully suspicious that all I had really done was decide whose name was first on the billing, and threatened to fail us both on the basis that we had completely missed the point of a group project.

In the interest of fairness, however, we could give a live report of the project to them after class, prove that we actually worked on this together.

I was more than ready to flunk the whole thing and take Evie down with me, just to show her that no matter how hard she tried, I wouldn't change my ways for her. But ever prepared, she slipped me a cheat sheet with instructions on how to bluff and steer my way through the whole presentation. And for some reason, I didn't throw it away, I followed it and we not only managed to convince the professor not to fail us, but got an A for the project.

When I told Ben about it, he replied that “Maybe it's a sign, that you're not giving her a fair chance—and by that, I mean that you've totally, completely discriminated against her, and are doing the same bigoted behaviour you claim to hate, and say is one of the biggest things is wrong with the world.”

I shot back, “More like it was just her sense of self-preservation, keep those straight A's of hers. Just you watch, she'll probably expect me to want to be her new best friend, or say I owe her big time for this.”

That Evie never did, we never really brought up again. I know she's just waiting for a good opportunity, though.

* * *

Friday night.

Pretty much every student from both halves of Auradon Prep was in the Rose Room, turning the massive, lavishly decorated, and historical landmark into Wild Teenage Party Central, blasting the latest in rock music from the dozens of boomboxes tuned to the same station; passing around chips, soda, and contraband booze; dancing on the marble floors with varying degrees of skill and coordination, snogging behind or around the elaborate marble pillars lining the sides, or pointing up at the iconic big-ass chandelier above us, daring someone to try and somehow get up there and dangle off of it, a good three to five stories above the marble floor with no clear way to get back down.

We were all still in our uniforms—there wasn't enough time to go back to our rooms and change, and sneak to the party—but you could see the changes made just for the occasion: shirts were untucked and buttons were left open, skirts were cut and pinned up far shorter than they should have been, and faces were adorned with shades of lipstick, blush, and eyeshadow that would have had the dorm parents turning bright red if they knew.

And it was _awful_.

There were too many versions of the same song blasting out of sync thanks to the Doppler effect, way too many teens who had drank too much alcohol far too quickly, and sober and drunk ones alike getting into shenanigans on the quest to get laid, entertain their Ids' temporarily uninhibited impulses, or both. I wouldn't have strayed within a mile of the place if it weren't for the fact that it was such a rich breeding ground of opportunities for blackmail, mischief, and the occasional underage aspiring bartender who knew exactly what to do with the booze we smuggled from town and stole from the cellars.

I just finished sending a group of horny boys off to their fates with big smiles on both our faces, when I he turned around and came face to face with Ben. He looked none too pleased with me, to say the least.

I smiled at him, and raised my plastic cup filled with a really rocking strawberry daquiri. “Hey Ben, what's up?”

Ben kept on frowning at me.

“I'm doing them a favour,” I said before I she took a sip of my drink. “Since the 'Just Say No' campaigns have obviously done so much, I think a humiliating incident that no one will _ever_ let them live down is a much better, more effective way to keep our fellow teenagers from drinking.”

Ben sighed and shook his head. “I need a favour,” he said.

I took another swig of my drink, and looked at him over the rim, telling him to get on with it.

“I need you to take my place in the Seven Minutes in Heaven circle.”

I spat my drink back out, and went into a coughing and spluttering fit. “I'm sorry, I _must_ have misheard you: I _think_ you just said that you needed me to sub for you in a 'game' that puts me at risk of making out with a drunk, hormonally-addled schmuck who's never kissed a girl in his life, but _obviously_ that's not what you meant, _right?”_

Ben looked at me with the puppy dog eyes. “Mal, please: as your friend, can you _please_ just do me this one _really_ big favour? I promise I'll make it up to you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, _no._ ”

“Okay. Then I suppose I'll just go back there, and as I pass people by, I'll just _casually_ mention something I heard about you and dragon pa--”

I held my er hand up, Ben stopped. “If I end up getting slobbered over, get cold sores, or _worse_ , I'm holding you legally liable.”

Ben nodded. “I'll take that risk.” He pointed down a direction as he walked past me. “Game's that way.”

I briefly considered reneging on our agreement, before I realized that temporary relief was not worth the permanent damage Ben could do with that info he had. I downed the rest of her drink and went to look for the circle; much as I hated wasting such a good cocktail, I needed the alcohol in my system.

The circle wasn't hard to spot, with thanks to the person supervising the game and calling for more desperate schmucks. “Come one, come all, one more spot for Seven Minutes in Heaven!” Jay called out over the music blaring all over the ballroom. “It's your chance to make-out with the likes of Audrey, Chad, or the head boy himself, Ben! Total privacy, just the two of you, for seven minutes! All you need to do is sit down, and spin the bottle!” he finished, holding up an empty beer bottle for all to see.

“Oh, hey Mal,” he said as I came walking up. “Come to be our last player?”

“I'm replacing Ben, actually,” I replied.

“What?!” cried a clearly very drunk Audrey from within the circle. “Ben's not playing?” I nodded, she scrambled up to her feet. “Where is he? Where is he?!” she shrieked as she ran off with a frantic look on her face.

Most everyone watched her go. I quietly shook my head.

“ _Wow._ Talk about desperate,” someone said, before she giggled.

I turned to her, a smile on my face and an appreciative “Mhmm!” all prepared before I noticed who had said it.

Jay whistled. “Well, well, well, if it isn't Evie herself! Come to make one lucky guy—or gal's—night...?” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Evie smiled and cast playful looks at the suddenly very excited players in the circle. “Yes, yes I have, actually~”

“Then sit yourself down and get comfortable!” Jay said, gesturing to the free space Audrey had left in her wake. “You too, Mal,” he said, pointing to the space that I assumed was supposed to be Ben's.

I shot him a look of disbelief, before I reluctantly myself down, Ben's threat looming over my head. Evie tried to give me that same coy grin, but I ignored her, staring down at my favourite, uniform-regulation-breaking pair of purple sneakers.

The last spot was filled in post-haste now that word had gotten out that Evie had joined. Jay put the bottle in the crook of his arm and clapped his hands. “Alright! Let's get this game started!” he said as he set the bottle down. “Lady Luck, Lady Luck, make us a match made in heaven!” he chanted as he set it to spinning.

Faces lit up. Boys and girls tried to control the bottle with just the power of their minds. Excited, drunken howling and hooting filled the air and put me at risk for hearing loss, making me reconsider if this was really worth it.

“Round and round it goes, where it'll stop, nobody knows!” Jay cried before he rejoined the cheering.

I sighed, and closed my eyes as we all waited for the night's pair to be chosen. I didn't bother looking at the bottle, as I knew damn well that someone would make it pretty clear for me soon enough. And with the crowd suddenly going berserk, there really was no guesses as to who won.

“And the first of our lucky pair is Evie!” Jay announced as he leaned into the circle and put his hand back on the bottle. “Let's see who's the lucky guy—or gal—who'll be joining her high up in the clouds!”

I rolled my eyes I heard the people beside me praying that it'd be them, the people outside of the circle whispering their guesses about who it'll land on and the implications. I closed my eyes again, tried to block out the noise as the bottle slowed down and the screaming and the chanting reached a new level of loud and obnoxious…

… And then suddenly, everything was dead silent around our neck of the Rose Room.

I looked up, curious. Then, I realized that the bottle was pointing _straight at_ _me_ , no questions, no doubts, no arguments that it was in the space between players and closer to the person next to me.

“Wait--” I said.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, say your farewells, Mal and Evie are going off for Seven Minutes in Heaven!” Jay announced as he picked me up from the floor by my arm.

I tried to protest, but whatever I said was drowned out by the howls of a redo, the wails of despair, and the rumour mill going at mach speed. I tried to escape, but I he was far too small and far too weak to wrestle out of Jay's grip, and the constant sea of elbows and sides we bumped into on our way out of the Rose Room all but sealed my fate. All the while, Evie followed obediently behind us, navigating through the crowds like water, a smile on her face and her purse clutched tight against her chest.

People stopped and stared, eyes widening, mouths dropping open, heads shaking in disbelief; more than any time in my life, I just wanted to _disappear_ , mysteriously sink into the floor, never to be seen again.

But of course, life wasn't that kind.

We finally broke free of the Rose Room, out its majestic double doors to the plainer looking halls it lead out to. Two boys from the Tourney team were standing in front of the many doors lining the walls; one nodded at Jay, the other opened the door. As I looked at the cramped space, the walls stuffed with cleaning supplies and neatly folded linens, I started to struggle all over again.

Jay calmly held down my shoulders and picked me up off the floor. I started kicking at his legs. “So, which of you ladies are going first?” he asked, ignoring my ineffective assault on his ankles.

“I will,” Evie said, slipping into the closet with all the grace and poise of a princess stepping into her fancy carriage.

“Remember: lights out, door closed for seven minutes, no more, no less!” Jay said before he tossed me in.

I stumbled and caught my footing, spun around on my heel, and charged at the door. “Jay, don't you _fucking_ \--!”

SLAM!

The humiliation that the person I hated second only to my mother had seen me run straight into a door hurt worse than the impact with an inch or so of solid, antique wood.

I staggered back, clutching my nose and letting loose every curse word I knew until my back hit a wall of folded linens. I scowled as I heard a suppressed giggle.

“You okay?” Evie asked.

I glared at her—or in her general direction, it was pitch black in this room, and neither of us could really make out much with the little light seeping in through the cracks in the door. I made a grunt that sounded vaguely like “I'm fine.” before I turned around and sulked in the furthest corner away from her.

“I've got tissues in my bag if your nose is bleeding.”

I rolled my eyes. “No thanks,” I muttered. I would have made some comment about how I'd rather tear up strips from my stupidly expensive uniform blouse, but my voice was all nasally from the run-in with the door.

All was silent for a few wonderful, blissful moments.

“So... you want to make out...?”

Even though I was sure she couldn't see it, I had to turn around and stare at her in disbelief, just on principle. “Are you fucking _serious_ right now?”

I felt Evie shrug. “I just assumed, is all, seeing as pretty much everyone else wanted to...” she said innocently.

“Well call me the exception,” I snapped. “You do realize I hate your guts, right?”

“Yes, but you see, there's this part of me that thinks that's because you've got a crush, and since you express your feelings exclusively through violence and sarcasm...” Evie said playfully.

My cheeks burned. I was grateful Evie couldn't see it. “Don't get all Freudian with me...” I grumbled, turning back around to the wall.

Evie chuckled. “I was actually getting Florian—Benjamin Florian, that is.”

I gritted my teeth and made a mental note to kick him in the shins for this the next time I saw him. “Don't believe a word he says,” I muttered. “You may think the guy just naturally sees the best in people, I think that he's got an incredibly powerful sense of denial.”

Evie chuckled again, though this time, her voice was lower, mischievous. “Whatever he said, it still doesn't change the fact that I'm pretty interested in you.”

I looked over my shoulder. “The fuck would be interesting about me? I'm just your average teenage punk, going nowhere fast and going down _hard_ in a couple of years, with a hatred towards everything and everyone in the whole world, especially for absolutely _perfect_ angels like yourself,” I spat.

“Or maybe that's all you want people to believe,” Evie said.

Her voice was louder than before. Closer.

“You know what I like to think, Mal?” Evie said, her fancy leather shoes echoing softly on the floor.

“No.” I said as I stared at the wall.

“I like to think that you're just a little girl that always got the short end of the stick, who thinks that the whole world is out to get her, and that everyone that ever helps her has an agenda,” Evie said as she kept on coming closer. “Even someone like Ben.”

“I'll look good on his resume in the future,” I mumbled. “'Tried his best to befriend and reform a problem student, which, while ultimately futile, shows great compassion towards others, and sheer, dogged determination.'

“Why the _fuck_ are we talking about this, anyway?”

“Because, I needed to keep you distracted so I could do this.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder grab me and spin me around, before I was pinned against the wall with a knee between my legs and two hands planted on the wall, inches away from my head. “T-the _fuck_ are you doing…?!” I whispered.

“Doing something I've wanted to to do for a while now…” Evie purred as she pressed her chest against mine. “You're a real _bitch_ , you know that, Mal?”

I blinked. Never once had I heard Evie say a single curse word or anything even _remotely_ dirty, and now that she had, the effect was not unlike getting punched so hard you end up swinging right back onto the fist and get hit a second time.

“Spreading nasty rumours about me, stealing my shit from my locker, and I'm _still_ not over the fact that you _never_ helped me with that project we had, no matter how nicely I asked...” she whispered, in a tone that had the alarm bells in my head _ringing_.

I could feel her hot breath on my skin. I started to tremble and sweat I started to realize just how _screwed_ I was.

“… I spend most of my time ignoring the shit you do, playing it down, or going out of my way to try to convince everyone you're not that bad, and then, _like clockwork_ , you do something to _royally_ fuck it all up.”

Evie leaned in, till there was barely an inch between our faces, her eyes staring right into mine. “That's _really_ _fucking_ annoying, you know that? Enough to drive a girl _crazy.._ _._ _”_

I gulped. It got stuck in my throat, and wouldn't go further down.

Evie started whispering into my ear. “You are a bad, bad, _bad_ girl, Maleficent Bertha, Junior. You just do whatever the _fuck_ you want, whenever you want, and _nobody_ cares! Sure, they'll lecture you, tell you off, sent you to the Headmistress' office, but really, _n_ _obody_ cares if you screw up, if you get in trouble, if you don't get it right; _nobody_ watches you like a hawk expecting you to be perfect all the time; _nobody_ bats an eyelash when you finally lose it and flip someone the bird, tell them to go fuck themselves...”

Evie growled. I let out a little dying noise.

“… You are one of the _worst_ people I have _ever_ met in my entire life, Mal; I have shown you nothing but civility and politeness and you _literally_ threw it back in my face that one time in Home Ec. I hate you, and I hate you with a _burning passion_ , I probably hate you more than you hate me, which is _really_ saying something!”

She laughed, the kind of sound you hear from people that have finally hit their limit and _snapped_.

“… And what makes it all the worse is that I have no _fucking_ clue why, but I **want** you _just as much_...”

I blinked. Sweat was pouring down my skin now, my heart pounding in her chest, threatening to rip out, and call for help if I didn't get the fuck out of here soon.

Evie pulled up again, almost no space between our faces, her eyes staring down into mine.

“I'll ask again: do you want to make out with me, Mal...?”

I didn't answer.

Evie didn't care.

Making out with her was a surreal experience, to say the least.

There was a part of me that reminded me that this was Evie, the girl I had sworn to be my archnemesis went out of my way to despise and harass, and more importantly that yes, this was _exactly_ the thing that Mrs. Godmother had privately told all us girls that they should never, _ever_ allow a boy to do to them if we didn't want to, and that we were well within our rights to pull away, scream, and knee him in the goolies for good measure.

However, the rest of me was all too focused on how soft and warm her lips were, the rich strawberry scent of her lip gloss, that she was kissing me a lot harder, and that I'd _love_ to tilt my head back right into her waiting hand, part my lips to let her prodding tongue in.

I'd heard the stories about how good of a kisser Evie was. I'd be surprised if there was anyone on either campus that hadn't heard just how mind-blowing, how amazing, how easily Evie could turn legs to jelly with her lips.

I'd dismissed them all as just the usual exaggerated bragging, like the old boys in town did with their fishing and hunting stories, always bigger, more intense, and amazing that it actually was. I'd even asked myself about how good it really was to have someone's slobbery, slimy tongue invading my mouth, swapping spit, and possibly even sticking down my throat.

Now… I… had to admit to herself that it was actually _pretty_ damn _hot._

I let out a noise I'd never made before—a moan, a whimper, a _squeak_ , really, at a high pitch I never knew I was capable of, a sound that flooded me with _shame_ and _embarrassment_ as Evie stopped, and started to pull out of the kiss.

I gasped as we finally broke apart, only just remembering that I _really_ needed a thing called “oxygen.” There was a trail of slobber between us, one that Evie didn't even bother to wipe away, just let drip onto our blouses, and for some weird reason I found that REALLY sexy.

Evie chuckled, her voice low and just the right amount of sinister. “Let me guess: never french kissed anyone before...?”

I spluttered. “French—you just _pinned me against the wall_ and _stuck your tongue down my throat…!”_

I was trying for “outraged,” but it came out as “shocked, embarrassed, and woefully unprepared.”

Evie hummed. “I'll take that as a 'Yes.'” I felt her press her hand on the back of my head, tilt my neck back up. “Close your mouth, and when you feel my lips against yours, just copy what I do, okay? No tongue—for now.”

I nodded dumbly and obeyed.

Evie kissed me again.

Even if it was gentler than the earlier expedition into my mouth, this one felt more exciting, nicer, more… intimate. I clumsily moved my lips against Evie's, and if I wasn't too fast compared to her easy pace, I was going off target, lips pressing up against her noses, or ending up on her cheeks or chin.

Evie giggled as she pulled away. “Holy _f_ _uck,_ you are _really_ bad at this...”

I bristled. “Then why don't you find someone else?”

“Because”--Evie pressed her forehead against mine--”they're not you.”

I blinked. “O-oh.”

“Just pucker up and hold still, alright…?” Evie mumbled.

I did.

Evie's lips pressed up against mine one more time, just a light kiss for a second or two, before she pulled away.

There was a part of me that was _deeply_ ashamed to find myself still puckering my lips long after Evie pulled away, hoping for another, longer kiss. Instead, I my face forcibly scrubbed clean with a wet wipe.

“Sorry,” Evie said. “Unlike you, I've got a reputation to maintain.”

It felt like I got punched in the gut as Evie pulled away and headed back to the other corner of the room.

I spent the rest of our time in the closet leaning against the wall with my arms crossed, looking like I was just sulking and waiting for this to be over. No one could ever know what I really felt.

“Hey Mal?” Evie asked.

I perked up, and waited a moment, to let the excitement die down. “What...?”

“Where'd you get that strawberry drink? I'd like to taste it outside of your mouth.”

I hung my head. “East side, near the balcony, look for a brunette girl with a steel shaker and a cooler full of ice...” I muttered.

“Thanks~” Evie said, and all was silent once more.

After what felt like an eternity, the door opened. The boys did it slowly, as if pushing it open too fast would cause an explosion or reveal a scene that would be forever burned in their minds, in the bad sense.

Jay peered in through a small crack and shined a flashlight in.

Evie waved at him, while I shot him a dirty look.

“Time's up, ladies!” Jay said as he pushed the door open. “Afraid it's time to leave paradise itself...”

Evie stepped out as gracefully as she did, looking as if nothing had happened in there.

I stuck my hands into my pockets and shuffled out after her.

Jay stopped me at the door. “Hey, Mal—how was she?” he whispered.

I sneered, rolled her eyes, and bumped into him as I stepped past.

Evie disappeared back into the party, swallowed up by a horde of gossipers and jealous, masochistic admirers who wanted to know every detail. There were a brave few that came up to me and asked me for my side of the story, but after getting sullen looks and evil glares, they just gave up and settled for a second-hand source.

I left the party soon after that. Everyone was hitting that stage of drunk where everything seemed like a good idea, but I just didn't feel like taking advantage of it anymore.

Long after the party was over, and everyone had skittered off back to their rooms before the dorm parents were the wiser, I was in the attic I called my room, laying on my bed and staring up at the rafters.

I now knew that Evie was hiding something underneath all that perfection, and I was happy about that, even if everyone else would continue to be oblivious.

That it was a serious, passionate, and _very_ ill-advised thing for me… well, I didn't know what I thought about that.

And that bothered me.


End file.
